All That Comes After...

Before and After become very defining words in the grief journey.

Divorce
Losing a job
Losing a home
Infertility
Losing a child,
a parent,
a sibling,
or a spouse

Grief comes with so many parts of our lives; widowhood is definitely not the only or the worst journey through grief, it’s just one of many that our human hearts experience.

As soon as loss occurs, we immediately go to the “what now” train of thought. We go to the “how”, “what if”, “why”, and more.

We begin to wander through the memories of life before loss.
Safe
Secure
Happy
Loved
Certain

And we begin to fear that we will never again have all the “befores”. We fear that all that comes after will forever be our sorrow and suffering.

But I’m here to tell you that all that comes after CAN be beautiful and that life anew, after loss, does not have to or need to have all the “befores”. All that comes after will, can and should be different. And it will be gloriously wonderful, in its own way and in its own time.

Before Mike died, I thought I had it all figured out. I submitted to my husband’s and son’s wants before those of my own. I did not go on many “adventures”, as financially we could not afford them. We did not go on vacations hardly at all because my time off from school fell in the middle of hay season; farming and his career took priority over family time every single day of the week. For the thirteen years we were together. I had my part of the marriage: housework, yard work, groceries, my cell phone, my vehicle, our son’s insurance, and most of our son’ doctor’s bills. Mike took care of the “big stuff” like our mortgage, farm, etc...

I was oblivious to the secrets that didn’t surface until he was gone. Too many emerged just a few months post-loss and have kept me legally and financially drowning for a little more than three years now. So, I disappeared. So much of the “before” Veronica vanished.

She was broken.
Devastated.
Shocked.
Hurt.
Angry.
Alone.

After Mike died, I immediately withdrew. On every level. Avoided family, friends, church, work. I even avoided parenting. Not on purpose, mind you. I was just so enthralled with my own grief and fear that I couldn’t parent. Thank God my son was ten and could handle my being in bed for long hours. He fed himself, entertained himself, and even took care of me sometimes. I’d say this terrible stage of my own sort of death (mentally, spiritually and emotionally) lasted a good 6 months. Well, nothing about it was good, but you know what I mean.

Then at six months, a new job forced me out of bed and out of the familiar. I began working as a high school principal and began to create a new me. An “after” Veronica. I began to like this new Veronica, this adventurous, strong, independent, hard working, aware self. Having never been one who is sure of myself or secure in my looks, my body, my abilities in so many levels, I soon began to think she is pretty awesome and I am proud to be her. I am sure of this.

I opened myself up to new. New blossomed all around and within me.
I took my son on adventures. ALL BY MYSELF!
I worked hard to rock the role of principal.
I spent more time with family and friends.
I spent more time outside.
I wrote.
I published a book.
I started a company.
I created a home that looked like I always wanted it to.

I began thinking about where this new Veronica, this “after” Veronica would end up. Who was she going to become? The possibilities are endless after a tragedy like the one I have faced, the one that did not just bring a single loss, but brought so many tertiary losses that I honestly have lost count. The kind of tragedy that completely changed me.

It was not a me of whom I was proud in the beginning. It was a hollow version left. But within a couple of years, I began looking at the future with hope.
Hope for happiness.
Hope for healing.
Hope for stepping forward.
Hope for love.
Hope for a feeling of family again.

And let me tell you, the universe has not failed to deliver on my hopes. God has not failed to deliver.

All that has come after, even on some of the hard days (yes, grief still exists and definitely when it comes to our son), has proven to me that all of us who have walked the path of grief, of loss so powerful, deserve so much good and that if we are patient and open to new possibilities, they will come.

All that has come after makes my heart almost burst every single day.

I can actually see a future again, one filled with love and happiness, of sitting on the front porch drinking our morning coffee together, of taking Conner on adventures, of snuggling on the couch watching scary movies, of living once again. My smile and laugh have returned, the genuine ones, and people can see the difference. My heart will always have a place for Mike; my heart will always be sad on December 29 and other important dates; and my heart will always wish he was here for our boy’s milestones (all of which seem to be coming at me at lightning speed)...but my heart is also so excited for what possibilities may come our way.

All that comes after may not be what any of us planned for, but it sure is a pretty darn beautiful plan of it’s own.

I love so much who the “after” Veronica is today and I am so excited about her journey of continued growth, and I am forever grateful for and love all those who stand beside her every step of the way.

Sending so much love and light your way, today and always.
Keep the faith.
Keep pushing onward.
He never fails.

Love,
Roni